


Wall of Memories Caught in Time

by tryslora



Series: And Omega Makes Family [22]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Babies, Birthday, Community: fullmoon_ficlet, Family, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you just have to pretend to be that cookie cutter couple, even when you’re not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wall of Memories Caught in Time

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write something ridiculously schmoopy, so I did. This was written during week #51 (Amnesty) at fullmoon_ficlet for the prompt Photographs. As always, I do not own the characters or world of Teen Wolf, I just like to play with them.

Pictures are spread out all over the table, scattered like memories in still frames. Jackson picks up one and laughs to see the expression on Derek’s face in the image, so concerned and upset while Toby cries.

“I can’t believe you took a picture of that,” Derek mutters.

“I didn’t,” Jackson says with a smirk. “Lydia did. I remember that day. I was exhausted, and you were trying to get Toby quiet so I could sleep, and Lydia was… amused. I think we’d had him home less than a week at that point.”

“He looks so small.” Derek lightly touches the image of their son.

“He looks so helpless.” Jackson takes the photograph and tucks it into one of the many frames from the pile on another table. “And look at him now.”

“He’s chewing on the coffee table.”

“I could make a dog joke.”

“You won’t.”

No, Jackson won’t, but there are days when it’s hard to resist, considering the way Toby seems to chew on _everything_ these days. He has four teeth on the top and on the bottom, plus two of his one year molars, and more are growing in. There is nothing that doesn’t go in his mouth if he can reach it, and now that he’s wobbling around on two legs, everything seems to be in reach. “He chewed my slippers,” Jackson says dryly.

“And you took pictures.” Derek picks that one up, of Toby sitting in the middle of the floor, a slipped shoved in his mouth, drool dripping down his chin.

“I think we can leave that one off the wall.” Because Jackson knows that if that one is put up, _Stiles_ will not resist the dog joke. And he’s not giving Stiles the chance to make a dig at his son, even if he thought the same damned thing when it happened.

“This is disgustingly domestic,” Derek points out. He wraps his arms around Jackson from behind, pressing cheek to cheek. “We are about to have a wall of pictures. We look like a suburban couple.”

“Which will be exactly what we’re pretending to be during Toby’s birthday party,” Jackson reminds him. “There are five completely normal couples coming with their children to celebrate. Do you think you can pretend for two hours?”

“Do I have to pretend that the beer affects me?”

“No.” Jackson turns in his arms, kissing him firmly. “All you have to do is act human for a little while. It will make Toby happy.”

“Toby is not going to remember this.”

“You’d be surprised.” Jackson picks up another picture—one from their December wedding day—and places it in the top slot of a multi-picture frame. There are three smaller spots below, and he sifts through the stack of photographs to find a picture of Toby and Derek from that day, one of himself with Danny, Damon, and Lydia, and one of the entire pack. “You don’t remember things from when you were little?”

“I try not to,” Derek admits. “If I remember, then I think about the part where they’re all dead. It’s easier to keep moving forward.”

“Ah, no maudlin thoughts today. It’s all about the birthday. And the cake.”

“Da!” Toby wobbles in on unsteady feet, arms thrust out wide as he yells again. “Da! Cake!”

“He has a ten word vocabulary and one of those words is cake,” Derek mutters.

“Our kid is smart and has priorities.” Jackson scoops Toby up. “Yes, cake. And friends. And I’ve got the play yard set up for the lot of you, so you don’t all start chewing on the furniture, and the adults can sit around and talk about… whatever the fuck adults talk about.”

“You’re referring to yourself as an adult.” One of Derek’s eyebrows arches.

“The daycare thinks we both are.” Jackson offers a rueful smile. “I was talking to Elisa—Jordan’s mom—the other day and she was surprised I’m still in school. I didn’t tell her I’m barely out of high school. I’ll just mumble about pre-law things, and you can talk about the startup, and we’ll fake it well enough.”

He nuzzles Toby’s head, inhaling the scent of his son. Pack. Family. “Let’s see if we can get this guy to go down for a nap so he’ll be ready for his big day, later. We’ve got some pictures to get ready.”

#

The first person to see the new wall of photographs is Jackson’s mother, arriving early with gifts in hand and a salad to share. She stops entirely, and they have to rescue the things she carries as her fingers go limp and let go. She steps forward, touching the framed pictures, tracing them from the early moments of their relationship, through Jackson’s pregnancy and Toby’s birth, through the days of Toby’s first year and their wedding, and his first toddling steps recently.

It’s the first time she’s ever seen it all, Jackson knows. In some ways, it’s the first time they’ve shared most of it with their friends; the emotions were hidden from prying eyes for so long while they sorted it out.

“You have creatively cropped some of these.” Her lips purse as she skims over the time of his pregnancy again.

“I can’t exactly hang pregnant pictures in front of the parents from daycare, Mom.” He brings out a small scrapbook and presses it into her hands. “This one’s for you, and yes, everything’s in it. I hate most of those pictures. Please do _not_ look at them when I’m around.”

There are some where he swears he is as big as a house. It doesn’t matter how many times Derek tells him he’s pleased, Jackson doesn’t need to see those again.

As everyone arrives—pack and mundane friends both—Jackson and Derek stand back to watch them review the beginnings of Toby’s life. Their son toddles through the crowd, cheering happily and accepting congratulations on his birthday like he was born to it. Jackson can’t help beaming with pride.

“We _are_ going to do it again someday, right?” Derek murmurs against his cheek.

“Someday,” Jackson whispers back. “Eventually. But do you really think we can get it _this_ right a second time?”

“Every child is different, and the next will be just as amazing, because it’s ours,” Derek says.

“You are a sap.”

“I’m your sap.”

Jackson laughs and grabs his collar, holding him in place while he kisses him. He sees the flashes, knows that this moment, too, is being immortalized, then all over again when they scoop Toby up and smother him with kisses.

Memories trapped in time. They’ll need to make another wall of pictures next year.


End file.
